


Missing Moments: Faith, a direct continuation.

by MyBeautifulDecay



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBeautifulDecay/pseuds/MyBeautifulDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a direct continuation from the episode, just a wee bit of closure for our intrepid heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Moments: Faith, a direct continuation.

Jamie awoke to an empty bed once more, he rolled over and lay his hand against the mattress feeling the cool sheets beneath. She’d been gone a while. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled himself from below the duvet before dragging himself around the apartment. He found her darning his socks in front of the fire, he could see the tear tracks drying on her face as she methodically stitched.

“Claire, mo nighean, come back to bed?” He placed his hand against her shoulder making her jump a little. She shifted causing his hand to fall against his side. “Another nightmare?”

“I’m fine, really. I’ll just finish this. You go back to bed.”

“Dinna tell me yer fine, Claire. I kent that ye arena.” He sighed when she didn’t respond and shifted himself so that he stood in front of her before kneeling down at her feet. “Claire, ye said the same to me; do ye remember? Dinna shut me out, talk to me about it, aye?”

She dropped her head, her hands stilling as they gripped the needles tight, “I will, Jamie. Just…go back to bed, please.”

He leant up, kissed her forehead softly and ran his fingers through her loose curls. She didn’t shy away from his touch this time, but she didn’t lean in as she would have before. He brought his hand away, his heart sinking at the prospect of hours alone but he did as he was asked. As he walked the empty halls he let his fists ball at his sides. Fergus was quiet, Claire wouldn’t discuss the monsters that haunted her dreams and the staff all hid away from all of them. Only a week left, he muttered to himself. The thought of getting home to Scotland lightened his spirits somewhat, but they had to wait for Murtagh to return from Portugal before they could go anywhere.

Their bedroom seemed empty as he paced the floor, no longer able to sleep. His boots echoed off the wood, the clomp clomp of the soles forming a depressing rhythm as he waited for Claire to come back to him. The clock ticked on, the only other sound in the room, haunting him with each turn that left him alone. Minutes turned into hours and the sun began to set once more. He kent there was a price to pay, he’d lost his daughter and his wife’s trust in a matter of minutes and now it seemed Claire was having difficulty finding her way back to him.

He knew very well the other side of the coin. He could feel her sorrow, her self-loathing, her anger. It seeped from her like blood from a wound and the more she held it in, the harder it got for her to make her way back into the light.

He pulled the small ewer from below the bed and began to fill it with water, he’d shaved only days before but he had to keep his hands busy. Washing himself thoroughly, he shut his mind off and went about his task. The blade slid over the soft contours of his face removing the scant hairs there, he focused on that, on keeping the sharp edge close enough to clean him but not so close as to cut him. He did this over and over until he heard the soft click of the door opening and closing.

Quietly he packed away the razor and listened at the dip of the bed as she sat. Neither said a word as he poured the water out of the side window and placed the small tin tub on the table. She remained silent. His fingers ran over the grain of wood on the sideboard and tapped in time with the clock, hoping that she’d speak given time. When it became obvious that she wouldn’t, he turned and made his way over to her.

She was sat much the same as she had been in the sitting room, her eyes focused only on the deep green of her dressing gown. He could tell she’d been crying more, the whites of her eyes having turned a sore looking red.

“I love ye, Claire, by Christ I do. Ye need to relive yerself o’ this burden, we have the time now. We’re alone, I canna say we will be once we get back on the road home. Dinna shut me out.” He got back down on his knees in front of her and took her hands in his, rubbing his fingers over the soft skin of the back of them. She was shaking, her palms clammy but he wouldn’t be deterred. He took her wrist with one hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her delicately and with the other he cupped her sodden cheek.

After all the trials of the last few weeks she was truly raw. Her insides felt as if they’d been mashed with a blunt spoon. Her meeting with the King lingered like a choking smog, coating her lungs with a foul tar. She’d done it to save him and she’d do it again should she need to, but in the aftermath of losing Faith and learning of Fergus’ assault she’d had little time to grieve for herself. Now, as they’d been left alone, she was finally feeling the consequences of her actions.

He watched, as best he could, as a myriad of different emotions crossed her face. In an effort to comfort her he moved her gown aside, the room was baking hot and he’d started to feel it despite only being in his shirt. She didn’t move, letting him remove it from her shoulders leaving her in nought but her shift. The tiny bump protruded from her, reminding him of what they’d lost. He felt her hiccup and sob as she felt it too. She’d been hiding the evidence away, trying to move past it as best she could without the reminders. He put his hands on her thighs, spreading her legs a little as he tried to stem the hurt.

In a flash she was half way across the bed, her eyes wide and filled with fresh tears as she gripped her knees to her chest. Jamie stayed where he was, his hands raised in surrender. Claire’s heart was pounding now, her skin crawling. She knew it was Jamie, but she could feel Louis, his hands had barely made contact with her but it’d been to part her knees. She let her legs slide along the coverlet as she came back to herself, her hands immediately coming to rest on her belly.

An immense feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her and in a moment she had fallen to her side, curled up in a ball and allowed the relentless sobs to roll through her, much like at L'hôpital. Jamie crawled along the bed towards her, tears welling in his eyes now as he pulled her against his chest and whispered Gaelic prays against her ear. He hadn’t been there for her in the aftermath of his daughters’ death, he’d never be able to change that, but he was here now.

“Oh, Claire. I’m so…verra…sorry.” He mumbled into her hair, his chest feeling heavy as the words left his mouth. She twisted in his arms, burying her head against his chest, her fingers clenched tight to his back. He held her as her jagged breaths evened out and she fell asleep, rocking her as gently as he could whilst whispering quiet words of love and forgiveness. He knew there was nothing to forgive, of course, but he also knew the weight of such things and how they manifested in dangerous ways.

–

She slept through the night, occasionally her arms would clench and she’d tense as if about to bolt but his body was so attuned to hers, even with their separation, that he would immediately rock her back into an easy sleep once more. As day broke he tucked her up tight and went to summon Suzette. She needed some comfort, a warm bath and food. It wasn’t until he had all of this prepared that he went back to their rooms.

Claire was stood at the window as he entered the room staring into the courtyard below.

“Sassenach, come here to me, please.” He implored, she seemed so small stood all by herself, her shoulders hunched holding the weight of the world on them. She turned slowly and inched her way towards him, stepping into his arms and laying her head against his chest. “I’m going to bathe ye, then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want a bath, Jamie.” Her voice was muffled against his chest, the vibrations of it ran through him.

“Let me take care of ye, a gràidh. I just want to wash ye.”

“I’m quite capable, you know!” She snapped, her fists clenching at her sides as she pushed herself away from him. Her cheeks were flush red in anger, her eyes alight. “I don’t need you to care for me. I did perfectly alright by myself!”

“Claire. I didna mean to offend ye, I ken that ye can, just that I dinna wish ye to. Ye’ve been through a lot, it’s alright to let me.” He held his hands out to her, a peace offering but she simply wrapped her arms around her midsection as if holding herself together. This just wouldn’t do, he thought. She was hiding from him.

Her head dropped as her shoulders slumped in resignation. “I don’t want to, Jamie. Please just leave it be. I’ll talk to you, I said I would.”

“Aye, ye did. Ye will, I ken that well enough, but what’s stopping ye from coming wi’ me now?” He took one step towards her, bridging the physical gap whilst trying to overcome the metaphorical one.

“I just,” her mouth opened and closed as if she were fighting with herself internally, editing her thoughts.

“Dinna hide from me, Claire. Dinna allow this to fester within ye, just tell me, aye?” His words cut through her like a knife and she brought her head up to meet his eyes.

“I’m ashamed.”

There it was.

Jamie had to school his features so his shock didn’t show and stop her from talking to him. “Ye have naught t’ be ashamed of, my Claire. Why do ye feel so?”

She steeled herself, pulled her chin up and swallowed audibly, her eyes held a glint of fear as she spoke.

“Because I am. Because I couldn’t keep her alive. Because I have the marks to prove it. Because I don’t want to see what remains of her,” the tears dripped down her cheeks, her face a slight red colour as she tried to hold in her grief, “because even though I had to, I slept with another man and I can’t stop feeling his hands against my skin.” A shudder ran through her as her nails bit into the skin of her upper arms. She hiccuped in a breath, her sorrow hidden, badly, behind a veil of self-loathing.

“Claire, mo nighean donn, my Sassenach. Ye did everything ye could!” He stepped forward again, his fingers prying hers from where they lay. She was stone cold, as if all the blood had left her body. “She was meant for the Angels, and I dinna ken it fer sure, but I dinna think there was more ye could have done for our wee Faith.” He pulled her to him, forcing her to make contact as she shook in his arms. “As for the King, he willna touch ye again. I meant what I said about us taking this on together, aye? That means ye must tell me these things. For both our sakes.”

She nodded against him, her tears soaking through his nightshirt.

Neither said anymore as Suzette came to fetch them. Jamie simply swept her up and carried her through to the sitting room. The fire was blazing, the silver tub glowing in the darkened room as he relieved her of her shift. She shrank backwards, her whole body seeming to reject the notion of being so exposed to him but he wasn’t going to let her hide away any longer. They needed to face this together. The silence stretched on as he lifted her into the warm water, the steam leaving a layer of condensation on her exposed skin.

He reverently cleansed her, washing over her shoulders and arms first before dipping below the waterline to run the soft towel along her submerged legs. Her left her tummy for last, the delicate skin there still showing signs of their child. She jumped a little, the water sloshing against him as she moved but she settled soon enough.

He gulped in a breath, his lungs seeming to shrink with the pressure of the emotion in the room. “I ken how hard this is for ye, Claire, but yer so beautiful to me. I hope these marks never fade from your belly, but even if they do she’ll always be with you. With us.” He took her hand then, twinned with his, and place it over his heart first and then against hers. “She’ll always be a part of ye, and a part of me. Dinna fret.” Leaning forward he touched her forehead with his so delicately. “Tha gaol agam ort, Faith, a leannan.”

Suddenly her lips were against his, their tears mingling as she wrapped her hands behind his neck. “Take me to bed, Jamie. You’re…please, you make it stop. You make the pain stop.” She murmured between kisses, her lips shaking with the force of the words.

“Aye, but I willna rush ye, Claire.” He held her close, the front of him completely soaked now as he carried her back to their bed.

She lay against the soft sheets as he undressed, her red-rimmed eyes focused on each tentative movement as he pulled the damp shirt over his head. She could see the fear in his eyes but she knew he’d come to her. They needed to erase the horror of the past few weeks, of their whole failed stint in Paris. The only way she knew how to wash herself of this powerful mourning was with his body against hers, naked and as one. They would find a way back to each other, and now as they both hit rock bottom, they discovered the subtle nuances they first sought in the heat of their first encounters.

Claire lifted herself off the bed using her elbows as leverage as he came towards her, his muscular thighs quivering in the dim lighting of the room. His legs were covered in a smattering of lush golden red hairs that stood on end, the gooseflesh covering him causing them to rise. The smooth incline of his wrists tensed and released as he clenched his fists. They’d fallen into a dank pit, and now spluttering and scarred they had to crawl back into the light. He was her light.

Jamie watched as she inched back on the bed, her throat twitching as she swallowed, the slight bulge of muscle in her calves becoming more defined as she moved. He reacquainted himself with her body, the newly grown thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, the rounder swell of her tummy and the deeper pink of her nipples. She’d always been a beauty to him, now in the swath of the mid-afternoon light and the candlelight of their chambers she was even more so. Her long pale fingers buried themselves deep into the coverlet as she bowed her head coquettishly. She looked just as she had done on their wedding night. Filled with trepidation, but now she had a new aura.

There was the love and lust of their early days, the fear of newly discovered companionship but overhanging all of that there was the deep blue mingling of loss. It almost made her glow and only he kent how to lessen the pain.

As he moved to stand in front of her she brought her hands up and caressed every inch of him she could reach, she ran her palms over his tummy, over the slight indent at his hips and over the swell of his thigh. He’d lost some tonal definition, likely from his time in the Bastille, just as she’d lost some roundness in her face. They were changed, but only marginally.

He pushed forward, bending over her so she had to lie back against the pillows. He then began to worship every small fraction of her. The skin at her neck smelled of soap and tasted vaguely of roses and bath water. His tongue lapped greedily in the hollows of her collar bone and down the valley between her breasts. The bend of her arm still held a feminine sweat that he basked in, using his lips to tickle her so that she twitched and moaned in the most delightful way. He ran his nose over her left side, the dry patches of scant hair there brushing lightly against him. Hovering over her, he looked up under his ruddy lashes as she gazed down at him, resting his chin against her belly.

“Lord, that we may be granted with another. I shall see it so.” He whispered as he closed his eyes and prayed. His lashes brushed against her, minutely, and she trembled briefly. Her legs raised to hold his bottom where it was. He kissed her then, over every inch of her small swell. Over the stretch marks that indented the pasty skin, the silver slithers making the most extraordinary patterns. His tongue felt exquisite as it ran over them, the thinner skin there being more sensitive than usual. Moisture quickly sprang to her eyes as she cried quietly to herself, the joy and pain mingling as he took away the more devastating parts of her loss with his mouth, with his body, with himself.

He could feel her lie against the mattress, her body finally succumbing and he pushed himself up and inside her as she bucked under him. Her hips rose to meet his as her shoulders thrust upwards causing her head to arch back. Her hands gripped tightly at the sheets as she let out a gasp followed by a quiet moan. He had his hands resting either side of her chest as he moved oh so slowly above her, watching every single move she made, watching as he healed her as best he could in the only language he knew how.

Her eyes opened now, small slits that glowed deep blue, the red of her sobbing subsiding minute by minute as he loved her. He bent his head down meaning to capture her lips but settled for resting his forehead against her temple as she muttered and whispered jumbled words of need into the great expanse of the room.

He was slow, methodical and gentle as he allowed her body to take him into her over and over, highly aware of how delicate she still must be feeling but dedicated to showing her their new found strength. It seemed to go on for hours. Push and pull, up and down. The tepid air in the room becoming a white hot heat in their laboured passion. Jamie could barely breath as he shivered, his whole body ached and throbbed with the pressure of making it last, but he would. He wouldn’t rush.

All at once her legs fell flat against the bed, her hips hung in midair, pushed tight to his, as she cried out and gripped so painfully at the hair on his head that his scalp burned with the force of it. He felt her body shift and pulse, the energy of their coupling flowing through each of them as she gave herself over to him, to the pleasure he could rouse her to. He felt her tighten around him, harder than he’d ever felt it before. The warm wet muscles of her wrapping around his cock like he couldn’t believe. His eyes shut, scrunched tight as he lost himself to this out of body experience. His mouth hung open as he moaned a gruff almost painful sound, his arms and legs shaking as he too fell into the abyss. The blackness enveloped him as he let his arms fail and he toppled against her.

Claire felt his full weight and clung tight, twisting them so they lay side by side, every inch of skin touching. They breathed as one, the darkness behind her closed lids as comforting as the sheen of sweat that coated them both and caused them to stick together from top to toe. The only sound that reverberated through that small room; the panting breaths of the two lovers, battered and bruised but alive.

“The only way to bare the weight of it is to do it together.” Were the last words she thought before letting herself slide into a more easy sleep than she’d had in weeks. He was right, together they were stronger and with their passage to Scotland booked, she was sure they would survive.

–

As the sun rose once more he watched her through sleepy eyes. She moved more now, her arms and legs seeming restless as she dreamt. It was in this pre-dawn that he re-memorised her once more, burning every inch of her into his memory for safe keeping. Kissing her softly all over her face he prayed; Lord that we may have another.

“I love you, Jamie.” She sighed in her sleep, her fingers twitching and reaching out for him, needing him closer.

“No’ long now, my Claire. Then I’ll take ye home. I love ye too.”


End file.
